The Life and Times of Filius Flitwick
by jon jones
Summary: A Work In Progress: A BioFic for Professor Filius Flitwick. One of (an unknown number) Chapters posted.
1. Prologue

Title: "The Life and Times of Filius Flitwick," a work in progress  
  
Author: jon jones  
  
Rating: G, but that won't last for long. Rating will be changed depending upon future chapters.  
  
Disclaimer: Filius Flitwick and most other characters and settings were created by J. K. Rowling. i claim neither authorship nor ownership of Harry Potter and his respective universe. i do, however, claim ownership of all original materials.  
  
Warnings: You should be aware that slash (which is to say, homosexual relationships and/or intimate encounters) WILL be a part of this story at some point. Although there is none as of yet, you are advised to not get involved with this story now if you think that some slash might piss you off later. This story contains no spoilers--yet.  
  
Author's Notes: This story was triggered by my extreme disappointment at the lack of fan fiction devoted to Professor Flitwick, and by my extreme lack of anything better to do with my time. i hope you enjoy it, invite you to issue feedback, and thank you for investing the time to read it.   
  
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Prologue  
  
Many years ago, a goblin and a witch fell madly in love. They could not marry, of course, goblins being classified as Beasts by the Ministry of Magic--so they fled. They lived together for a very long time, deeply entranced by one another, and perfectly content. Theirs being a normal relationship (or as normal as could be expected), eventually a child was born of them. A boy who, at first glance, one would assume was a full-blooded goblin. He had the long, pointed ears and the long, pointed nose and the long, pointed fingers of a goblin. He had the shrewd eyes and curling mouth of a goblin. And he was, at birth, roughly the size of a largish potato.   
  
Eventually, the boy's father grew weary of the woman, and, being a goblin, felt no particular attachment to his son. The goblin disappeared one night, leaving behind only a small sack of Sickles to remember him by. However much the boy looked like a goblin, as he grew, his mother learned that he had none of the cunning, none of the calculating nature of his father. He had, true enough, a startling intellect true to his heritage, but other than that, he was purely human at heart. The boy lived his life with his mother in a tiny cottage in the middle of a forest. They had no contact with the outside world. All the boy knew of the world beyond his forest was taught him by his mother and her enormous collection of books.   
  
He learned to read at age two. He was practicing Charms and Transfiguration by the time he was four. He learned to cook, to sew, to dance. He maintained a small garden, his turnips growing enormous thanks to his Engorgement Charms; his Orchids blossoming delicately thanks to his skillful hand and care. Once, while working in his garden, a wild boar charged at him. He reached for his wand and transfigured the beast into a piano before the animal knew what'd hit him. The piano was brought inside, and he taught himself to play it. He would compose intricate fugues in an hour's time and perform them for his delighted, aging mother. On the boy's eleventh birthday, something unusual happened. He received a letter. He'd never received a letter. He had, in fact, never seen any handwriting apart from his mother's and his own. More surprising still were the contents of the letter. They expected him, it seemed, to leave his mother behind. They expected him to leave his forest, his home, and enroll at a school. Hogwarts, they called it. He'd read about the school in the past, but he had never dreamed of going, of leaving his mother. He was very confused. His mother got a strange look in her eye and told him that it was time for him to go be his own man. She wept. He did, too. He had never known anything but his home, his forest, his mother. He was frightened.  
  
  
On the day that the boy boarded the shining crimson train and departed to school, his mother died of heartbreak. He never saw the little cottage nestled in the woods again. 


	2. Bit One The Hogwarts Years

Title: "The Life and Times of Filius Flitwick," a work in progress  
  
Author: jon jones  
  
Rating: G, but that won't last for long. Rating will be changed depending upon future chapters.  
  
Disclaimer: Filius Flitwick and most other characters and settings were created by J. K. Rowling. i claim neither authorship nor ownership of Harry Potter and his respective universe. i do, however, claim ownership of all original materials.  
  
Warnings: You should be aware that slash (which is to say, homosexual relationships and/or intimate encounters) WILL be a part of this story at some point. Although there is none as of yet, you are advised to not get involved with this story now if you think that some slash might piss you off later. This story contains no spoilers--yet.  
  
Author's Notes: This story was triggered by my extreme disappointment at the lack of fan fiction devoted to Professor Flitwick, and by my extreme lack of anything better to do with my time. i hope you enjoy it, invite you to issue feedback, and thank you for investing the time to read it.   
  
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Bit One  
  
Filius Flitwick learned little from his professors during his time at Hogwarts Academy of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Though he knew nearly every answer to nearly every question, he seldom offered them. He paid very little attention but received among the highest scores in the school. He had been delighted to find an enormous library in the castle, and he took it upon himself to read the entire library. There he found books on any subject he could imagine, and was often found curled in one of the narrow windowsills facing the Dark Forest with an enormous text detailing the goblin uprisings of fourteenth-century Norway or discussing the practical uses of fwooper feathers in potion-making. Though, again, he learned little from his professors, his knowledge grew steadily vaster due to the boundless compilation of books in the school's possession. He read and he read, his young mind committing to memory nearly everything it encountered.  
  
The boy stayed at the school for years, all the while reading. His marks maintained their position at the top, but he was never made Prefect, due solely to his lack of interaction with his peers. He had his share of lab partners, always performing his duties in class, but never giving them a second thought once out of the domains of his professors. There was one time, true enough, when an oversized Slytherin had tripped over him and attempted to use him for Bludger practice, but Filius gave his wand a little flick and sent the large boy flying into the lake. Filius straightened his navy-and-cream striped tie, picked up his book from the grass, and went back to his reading.   
  
He spent his summers alone in the Ravenclaw Common Room, his legs dangling as he sat in the delicate queen-backed armchairs with an enormous book perched in his lap. He would fall asleep beside the fountain in the centre of the circular room, and dream of his mother. He could remember, when he strained hard enough, his father, but Filius gave him little thought. He'd grown up without a father, and saw no reason to dwell on such things.  
  
He was quite astounded, then, when in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, he received an owl during lunch (it was his second-ever letter, so it came as a surprise even before he'd had a chance to read it) from Gringott's, the wizarding bank. It seemed that his father had just died, and all that had belonged to the goblin was now, legally, in Filius' possession. He came to learn that his father had accumulated quite the fortune betting on crup-fights (which had yet to be banned by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures), and was most amused to hear that he had died from a nasty dugbog bite that'd gotten infected.  
  
  
Upon his graduation, Filius took up residence in a tiny little flat above Literoy and Emot's, a small bookstore in Diagon Alley, and worked in the shop to fill the time when he wasn't reading. While working, he met a great many people as they came bustling in and out of the store, and grew slowly to appreciate the uniqueness of each. And from this newfound fascination with people came a most startling revelation about himself: people seemed to like him. 


End file.
